


Kingsman: 1991

by a_novel_idea



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3454613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_novel_idea/pseuds/a_novel_idea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy hangs back, hands stuffed into the pockets of an impeccable suit, doing his best to look the bored, overly aggravated bodyguard. Even though he definitely looks the part, rough around the edges in an expertly cut jacket and pants, Roxy can see the receptionist out of the corner of her eye, raking him over like her next hot meal. She supposes there is something to Eggsy's theory about posh girls and a bit of rough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kingsman: 1991

"Of course not," she says, stacking folder upon folder on the top of his desk. "That would be absurd, to think someone of my standing would sink so low as to do your paperwork. You rise above your station, sir."

Though the jab is articulated with the usual amount of bite, Merlin can feel how hollow it really is. He shifts through the folders, organizing what needs to be done first and what he knows has already been completed, before clasping his hands together and looking up at the woman leaning at the corner of his desk.

"Why don't you go home?"

She raises a delicate red eyebrow. Merlin takes a deep breath, and has to remind himself to stand his ground.

"My lady, I don't want to see you, either of you, for a week. Go home. Sleep. Mourn."

Her spine straightens, and one of her heels clicks on the floor as she rights herself. There is a defiant look in her eyes that the Kingsman is far too familiar with.

"No, thank you," she says firmly. "I'm needed where I am, and so is my 'either'; we respectfully decline. You'd do well not to mention it again."

She turns on her heel and stalks from the room, and Merlin has the vague notion that he may have just risked his life. He drops his glasses on his desk , and cradles his head in his hands, massaging his temples in an attempt to will away his blooming headache.

This is how Eggsy finds him twenty minutes later.

"Are you alright, bruv?"

"Yes, thank you, Eggsy. What can I do for you?"

"Galahad and Lancelot reporting in," the younger says, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at his lagging companion.

Lancelot sets her finger over the end button of her phone when her name is said, and slips the device into her pocket. 'Mum', she mouths to Galahad as Merlin turns to collect a file for them.

"Madrid," he says, interrupting whatever silent conversation they seemed to be having. "Thirty-six hours ago our intelligence department intercepted an email from an unknown source to this man." He throws a photo up onto the display screen. The subject is thin, disgustingly so, but obviously wealthy, if the number of body guards and the well tailored suit are anything to go by. "Alexander Mannis. Thirty-eight. Serbian national. Makes his money through bio-chemical development, though he's stayed pretty far down on our radar until now."

"And now?" Lancelot asks.

"Now it seems he's receiving the recipes for mass scale biological weapons. After the Valentine crisis, we're ready to shut this one down hard, but to do so, I'll need into his company's closed network. These are your dossiers and new identities. You have a meeting with Mr. Mannis this afternoon. Any questions?"

"Is this supposed to be a honey trap?" Lancelot asks.

"Not if it needn't be. But if so, you'll have to improvise; you're not quiet his type, Lancelot."

She raises an eyebrow and flips further into the folder before grinning.

"No," she agrees. "But Eggsy is."

The man in question groans, but accepts the mission all the same.

Merlin huffs a little laugh, and says, "Good luck. Your plane leaves in an hour."

\---

"Don't make such a fuss," Roxy says, dropping into the seat across from Eggsy. "It probably won't come to a honey trap, and, besides, you're meant to be my bodyguard. Just stand in the corner and look dumb and pretty."

Eggsy rolls his eyes.

"You know, be yourself."

Eggsy kicks her ankle gently, but the jab does bring a smirk to his face.

\---

"I'm worried about him," Roxy says as soon as Eggsy retreats into the restroom to change; she makes sure to click over to a private channel beforehand.

"So am I," Merlin admits.

"He's just so," she pauses, "not Eggsy."

"Losing Harry hit him just as hard as the rest of us."

They both pause, unsure of what actions could be taken to right the other man. Roxy knows what she wants to do: pet his hair and tell him that everything will be alright, but she hasn't been able to lie to herself, wouldn't be able to lie to Eggsy either, since she began the Kingsman program. Losing someone like Harry, someone that had taken you in and turned the world on its head, taken _you_ and made you _better_ , after something like that things may never be alright again.

\---

  
"I have a three o'clock meeting with Mr. Mannis," Roxy says to the receptionist.

Eggsy hangs back, hands stuffed into the pockets of an impeccable suit, doing his best to look the bored, overly aggravated bodyguard. Even though he definitely looks the part, rough around the edges in an expertly cut jacket and pants, Roxy can see the receptionist out of the corner of her eye, raking him over like her next hot meal. She supposes there is something to Eggsy's theory about posh girls and a bit of rough.

"Please feel free to have a seat; Mr. Mannis will be with you momentarily," the other woman says once she's able to pull her eyes off of Eggsy. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you," Roxy says politely.

The receptionist smiles, glances over Eggsy one more time, and leads them to a small conference room. Roxy takes a seat, purse at her neatly crossed ankles; Eggsy takes the place right next to the door, as relaxed as anyone can be in this kind of situation.

The wait no longer than five minutes, Roxy making herself look busy by fooling around on her phone. Mr. Mannis doesn't seem as emancipated in person, but neither of them know if it's because he's gained weight, or if it's merely a trick of the light; either way, Roxy supposes he could be very handsome if he tried. His hair and tie are askew, and he is insistently tugging on his cuffs as he enters the room. Roxy stands and Eggsy straightens from his position on the wall.

"Alexander Mannis," he says, introducing himself and offering Roxy his hand.

She shakes it firmly. "Sheryl Conrad. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mannis."

"Please, just Alexander, and the pleasure is all mine."

"Then I must insist you call me Sheryl."

"A fine name for a fine lady," he comments. "What can I do for you, Sheryl? I'm afraid I'm unsure of your reason for requesting this meeting."

"It's all very droll, I'm afraid," Roxy smiles, turning to Eggsy. "Bronson, be a dear and step outside so Alexander and I might have a private word."

"Very good, Ms. Conrad," he says gruffly, moving from his position on the wall. He lets his eyes linger in Mannis' directions as he slips out.

Roxy starts talking before the door closes, all smooth vowels and friendliness, but Eggsy doesn't linger to listen. He struts back out towards the receptionist's desk, dragging his heels to make it seem like this is all one big waste of his time. He spies the woman who greeted them eyeing him without trying to be obvious, and he has to pause and admit that she is quite lovely.

Wild, dark curls flow down over smooth shoulders and her blue top. Her eyes are dark brown, tipped up at the edges just like the end of her nose and the corners of her mouth. Eggsy bets that even when she's sad, she looks like she's smiling. He lets his own mouth turn up in a smile, lets himself eye her back as he saunters up to the edge of her desk.

"Hello, lovely," he says softly.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr...."

"Bronson," he says, offering her his hand. "Philip Bronson."

Eggsy can hear Merlin snort in his ear.

"Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Bronson?" she asks, laying her hand in his lightly.

"I'd be interested in having your name, if I may," Eggsy says, kissing her knuckles.

"Amel Kateb," she says, dark blush staining her cheeks.

"That's a lovely name!" he grins. "Is is Libyan? Nigerian?"

"You know your regions," she laughs. "My parents were from Algeria."

"I've never had the pleasure of visiting. Is it as lovely as you are?"

He can feel Merlin rolling his eyes.

"When the weather's fair," she sighs, turning her chair to face him.

Eggsy smiles, cocks his hip against the edge of her desk, keeps her distracted with her hand in his.

"I bet it's a sight lovelier than Portsmouth. The weather's always dreadful, always raining. And when it's not raining, it's cold."

"Is that where you flew in from?"

"Nah, love, Ms. Conrad has a private plane in Southampton. But what about Algeria? Which part are you from? Oran? Algiers?"

"You are full of surprises, Mr. Bronson! I was born in Djelfa; it's farther inland than Algiers."

"Please call me Phillip, Amel. I can call you Amel?"

"Of course, Phillip," she says, resting her hand more heavily in his.

She never sees him slip a USB drive into her computer.

Eggsy hears Merlin sigh in relief, and goes back to flirting with Amel. He likes her, she's funny, and a part of him almost feels bad for making her think he's interested when he's not. He might have been at one time, but now....

It takes everything in him not to startle when Merlin starts talking softly in his ear.

"Galahad," he says calmly, "in thirty seconds I'm going to ring your phone, and you're going to answer it. Do as I say, and do it quickly."

Before he has time to think about it, his ringer is going off.

"Sorry, love, I've got to take this," he says regretfully, pulling away from her and her desk. "Hello?"

"Don't react yet," Merlin's voice says. "Give it a full minute, then go get Lancelot out of that conference room. I don't care what excuse you use, just get out of there, both of you. Don't stop to speak to anyone else. There will be a car waiting outside the lobby. Black taxi, blonde driver. Go back to the airport, and get on the plane. Do not speak to the pilot, do not speak to each other. When you arrive back at head quarters, do not speak with anyone other than me. Is that understood?"

"Y-yes, sir," Eggsy says, and he lets his voice waiver. He drops the receiver from his mouth, and turns back to look at Amel.

"Is everything alright? You look sick."

"I'm very sorry. There's been an accident. I need to alert Ms. Conrad."

Without waiting for a reply, Eggsy turns on his heel and makes haste for the conference room. He knocks once, doesn't wait for a reply, and opens the door, praying he looks as distressed as he feels on the inside.

"Bronson!" Roxy scolds, rising from her seat.

"I'm very sorry, mum," Eggsy says in a rush. "Harry just called, says there's been an accident. It's Your brother, Charlie, mum, he's on his way to the hospital. Harry said him and his boys were out hunting, and..."

"Oh dear lord," Roxy says, blood leaving her face. She sinks back into her seat, seeming to give into a moment of panic before she rights herself. "Call the airfield; I want to be off the ground as soon as we arrive. Alexander," she says, turning back to Mannis, "I am so sorry, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut our meeting short."

"My dear, family should be everything. Never apologize for putting them first. Please take my best well wishes with you to see your brother."

"I'll be in touch," Roxy says, gathering her bag and holding out her hand for a sake.

Mannis clasps her hand in both of his, "I'll await news of both yourself and your brother."

"Thank you, Alexander. Bronson, call us a taxi."

"Already done, mum; he's waiting for us at the door."

They both walk as quickly as they can back to the elevator, Eggsy hesitating just a moment to smile at Amel. When the elevator car arrives, it is blessedly empty, and Roxy takes the moment to mumble,

"What's going on?"

"No idea," he mumbles back. "Merlin wanted us out quickly. Says not to talk to each other or anyone else until we get back to him."

"We are so fucked," she whispers.

"You can say that again."

"We are _so_ fucked."

\---

As soon as he has confirmation that both Galahad and Lancelot have successfully made it onto the plane and that they are safe at fifteen thousand feet, he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and reaches for his phone. It rings twice before being picked up by a swift,

"Oui."

"How are the violets I sent you?" he asks.

"They're lovely in the windowsill," a soft voice says.

"Can you talk?"

"I can, but quickly."

"I'm pulling you out," Merlin says quickly. "Extraction in two hours."

"Are you fucking serious?" the woman on the other end all but shouts. She manages to calm herself to an angry whisper, "I'm six months into deep cover and you're pulling this shite now?"

"We've located the 1991."

There's a choking noise on the other end of the phone before the line goes suspiciously quiet.

"Are you in or out?" Merlin asks.

"I'll pack my things."

"See you in six, and godspeed."

"Godspeed," she says, and cuts the line.

Merlin has one more phone call to make.

\---

"Kingsman Tailors," says the man who answers the phone.

"Yes, sir," Merlin says. "I'm calling to enquire of your flower selection."

"We have a fine range in for the season. One moment please."

Merlin can hear the receiver being set down and only has to wait a beat before it's picked back up.

"I'm not going the fuck home," a woman says before Merlin can even say why he's calling.

"Good," he says shortly. "How are those gillyblooms I sent you?"

"They're lovely on the kitchen table," she says automatically. "Is this line secure?"

"It is," Merlin says. "I need you to come in."

"You just tried to send me home," she says suspiciously. "What's happened?"

"We've located the 1991."

"Fuck me," she breathes. "I'm at the shop; I'll take the tunnel and be there in twenty."

"Godspeed."

"Godspeed."

\---

Eggsy holds the shop door for Roxy and follows closely behind her. The only person they can see is James, one of the only actual tailors that keeps up the shop front. He's busy, bent over his work table, but when Roxy goes to climb the staircase, he says,

"I'm sorry, miss, but your meeting has been relocated to the boardroom."

Roxy glances at him, but nods and turns to enter the first dressing room. Eggsy follows, placing his hand on the glass as soon as the door behind them is shut and locked. The floor descends, but unlike the first time he's ridden this strange elevator, the motion doesn't make him sick. He watches Roxy cross her arms, most likely in an attempt to keep from pacing, and has to clench his hands himself.

Whatever Merlin had pulled them out for must be bad.

The shuttle ride, when they finally make it down that far, is tense, each of them growing more and more anxious as they get closer to head quarters. Eggsy has been on several missions for the Kingsmen in the last eight months, both solo and paired, but none of them have caused the kind of urgency Merlin has managed to instill in them this time. By the time the shuttle car slows and the doors open, Eggsy thinks Roxy has managed to mangle her handbag, and probably he would have done the same if he had had one.

They step into the elevator quickly, avoiding all other auxiliary personnel, and descend even further. Two floors down and a quick jaunt down a few hallways has them standing outside Merlin's workroom. Roxy enters first, actually being of mind to knock, and when Eggsy closes the door behind them, Merlin commands him to lock it. There are two other women in the room, but Eggsy doesn't pay them much mind other than to give them a cursory glance (tall, redheads, seemingly unarmed); if they weren't supposed to be here, they wouldn't be.

"What the fuck is going on, Merlin," Eggsy breathes, more jittery than he's been since he finally moved his mum and sister out from under Dean.

"Give me your glasses," he says in response, and Eggsy slides them off his nose and hands them over. Merlin spends several moments pulling them apart with a pair of pliers before removing the internal wires and hardware, dropping them on the floor, and crunching them with his boot. "We need to have a talk."

Eggsy and Roxy both nod slowly.

"This way," he says, gathering a stack of paper files from his desk and leading the four of them towards the back corner. He shoves a small table out of the way, and lays his hand on the wall. It only takes a moment for the space beneath Merlin's hand to ping once and slide in on itself, revealing a small room bare of anything other than a table and chairs.

"Take a seat," he says, "and know that this is so above classified that there is only one other person besides us five that know about it. This is unspeakable, even amongst other Kingsmen. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," they both say.

"Good. Let me make the introductions. Lancelot, Galahad, this is Nimiane and Nyneve, the Ladies of the Lake. Ladies, this is Lancelot, and the new Galahad. Let's begin."


End file.
